The Cheating Game
by ColourInside
Summary: Escaping Arkham is more than just a paper chase: After facing an unexpected hindrance in his game, the Joker finds himself bound in a straitjacket. But as he encounters a pleasant way of cheating, things turn out easier than he would have thought them to be…
1. The Unexpected Hindrance

**AN: **_After being introduced to _The Dark Knight Trilogie_, I was immediatly fascinated by Heath Ledger's portray of The Joker. His interpretation of the character insprired me to write this story - it is a first attempt. Also, _The Dark Knight _led me to several other Batman-stuff, like some comics and the Batman Animated Series. Thus I would like to inform my readers that you may find some lines from the movie and some quotes from the famous comic "The Killing Joke" in my story. This Joker you are going to read about, is my own interpretation and more of a mixture between the comic-version and Heath Ledger's movie-version. With all this in your mind, have fun reading! I hope you'll like it! ;)_

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><p><span><strong>THE CHEATING GAME<strong>

**Chapter 1**

_The Unexpected Hindrance_

"I've come to talk." His voice was harsh as he addressed the haggard figure sitting in the back of the room, the slim face hidden by shadows. He carefully stepped closer, his feet sliding over the cold stone floor. A chain rattled as the man in the back of the room turned his head. His eyes were almost glittering and glowing out of his dark mask of black shades as he scanned the police officer who was slowly approaching him, a stern expression edged in his features. He kept his mouth shut.

"Do you know why you are here?" the officer asked. He stayed at a certain distance, as if keeping himself safe. His question remained unanswered. He could only hear the rattling of the chain as the Joker wrapped it around his thin wrists which were still stained with dried blood.

"Are you listening to me?"

The Joker lifted his gaze. His dark eyes locked with the officer's eyes and all of a sudden, the officer could feel an unpleasant shiver tracing his spine and his seriousness melted away as the Joker's lips parted into a hideous grin.

"Of course I am" the Joker deadpanned. "I've only been thinking."

"Thinking…" the officer repeated stiffly. "And what exactly-" He was interrupted as the Joker struggled to his feet, another chain rattling as he took a step forward.

"I've been thinking of a joke." He stepped out of the shadows, the electric lights made his face shine as bright as snow, and his scars drew a red sneer on his white face. He placed one hand on a corner of the wooden desk, leaning on it, his eyes peering out of their black frames, seemingly staring holes in the ceiling.

"A joke?"

The Joker licked his lips. "Yes. You see, there was this guy. He found himself sitting in Arkham Asylum one day. And he had absolutely no clue how he got there. He kept thinking of a reason though, he really kept thinking hard and he still couldn't find anything even close to a reason. He was always kind and charming, always good for a laugh, he was loyal to his mates and he never stayed out late while he always got up early. But later on, he figured that he might better be bringing this to an end as soon as he got out again – after all it seemed to have gotten him in the wrong place." The Joker's grin only grew wider and he let out a giggle, as his eyes peeked out of their dark holes. The officer obviously needed some time to collect himself again, to get back to the right trail. He cleared his throat, his face darkened and his fists clenched as he aggressively repeated his request:

"You are trying to skirt the topic. I would really like to get this over with as quickly as possible. Now, what do you remember?!"

"Remember?" The Joker's voice was calm, almost innocent, as if he hadn't caught the meaning of the simple word. He shook his head, his sleazy green locks sprung into his eye corners. "My mind already took the emergency exit. There is no way it would let itself remember anything…"

"Then maybe you can still let yourself think logically! What were you doing there and why?"

The Joker flipped his chain around his wrists. As it entangled with his fingers, he wrapped it around his palms, carefully eying the lock of his bonds. "Logic shall be left for the people who need to explain the reasons and circumstances of their poor existence."

The officer took a deep breath and his fists clenched tighter, still he kept himself in check. He closed his eyes for a moment before he continued the conversation, trying to keep his voice even.

"Okay…," he muttered, "Now, let's get back to the point. My question was simple. I just need to know what you were doing there and why. Then we are finished."

The Joker nodded, trying to take a step closer once again, but the chain that was effectively locking his foot to the wall kept him in place. He gave the chain an icy glare and it rattled in return. When he turned his head back he let his tongue flick over his lips again and he grinned mischievously.

"And what if I do not happen to remember anything? And what if I did and I am just not in the mood of telling you? What would you do? I already am in Arkham Asylum, what else could you do to me that would make matters worse?"

The officer let out a frustrated sigh. When he stormed towards the Joker and slammed his already clenched fists at the wooden table, the Joker's eyelids didn't even twitch.

"Enough of these foolish games!" he shouted, his cheeks turned slightly red and his hands were trembling with rage.

Then the Joker smiled and his blurred reflection in the shining wooden table was probably the creepiest of reflections the police officer had ever faced.

"Why so serious?" In a blink of an eye the Joker's hands snatched forward and he wrapped his chain around the officer's neck. And he pulled; tighter and tighter. He pulled at the chain and he pulled his face into a terrible frown, his dark eyes sparkling with pure insanity.

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><p>With another quick flick of his wrists the Joker freed his bonded hands from the officer's neck. The chains had left a bloody mark on his skin and his eyes were still opened wide with terror. Shrugging, the Joker kicked his head to the side, scanning his dead body. As he found what he was looking for, he stretched and jumped until his hands could reach the officer's belt. He took out the gun, stroking it like a child would stroke its teddy bear before kissing it Good Night and he carefully turned it in his hands as if it were made of fragile glass. Then, in a fluent movement, he turned back and used the gun to shoot himself free from the chain which had kept him safely attached to the stone wall. He pursed his lips and as aiming at the chains which still bound his hands together turned out to be of no use, he let out a sigh and headed towards the massive iron door instead. Lifting the gun, he opened the door.<p>

He took in the medical air of freedom. Well, almost freedom. He still needed to flee from this horrible prison, still needed to leave these walls behind that filled people with melancholy but also with wrath only at the sight of them. Then he'd be free again to do however he pleased. No chains, no walls, no officers. As if anybody could ever keep him anywhere. As if anybody could ever force him to do or say anything. He was the Joker. He was not a retarded moron. He played his own games and he followed his own rules. He cheated if he wanted to, he fooled if it was necessary. And now he stormed across his very own playground, kicking out everyone who stepped in his way. He was going to reach his goal and he was going to beat them all. He burst out laughing whenever he heard people scream while he was only showing off his shooting skills. They were all so serious. Far too serious to get his fabulous jokes.

Indeed, nobody dared to grab him. He kept them all at a distance, he shot them all down and left them whining. _Fun. Great fun._ He got far. He got over bridges, through halls, through doors and down staircases. He passed all the hindrances without having to throw a dice and he played out all the aces before anyone could hold him back. And then it finally was right in front of him: his goal. The door to eternal freedom.

"Drop your gun!" a thunder-deep voice suddenly called out behind him. Of course. A game which wasn't a challenge at all wasn't as much fun as a game which kept its tricky surprises. There had to be a twist in his luck. The Joker let out another laugh before he turned around stretching out his arm, ready to shoot. But a nimble foot pretended his fingers from pulling the trigger. A black boot flew through the air and it hit his face and made him drop his weapon gasping in shock.

"You have already gone too far" the voice growled. There, right in front of him, stood Batman, his valiant figure strait and tall, his cape fluttering although there was no breeze to move it. Why did it have to be Batman? He had spoiled it all.

"Now you ruined my little game. You are a hopeless spoilsport…" The Joker's complaint was punished by a hard beat in his face that probably made his jaw jump out of its gap.

"Enough!" Batman snapped. The Joker just clicked his jaw back in with a crack and he grinned, as soon as his jaw responded to his movements again.

"Really… You are all too serious. Don't you appreciate a little fun?"

Batman didn't even respond. He stepped on the Joker's arm, pushing him to the ground while picking up his gun and handing it back to some…doctors? The Joker didn't like the twist. He didn't like it at all. He actually really started to dislike it completely, as they all carefully stepped closer to him again in their white overalls which carried the stench of medications and drugs. But he had no chance to wriggle out of Batman's rough grip, as he pushed down his shoulders and with one strain of his muscles, he shoved the Joker's head hard against the massive door which was supposed to be his goal, his triumph. And then immediately, all went black as night.


	2. The Pleasant Way of Cheating

**Chapter 2**

_The Pleasant Way of Cheating_

He woke with his cheek pressed to the cold floor. He felt stiff and sore all over and his tongue had this metallic taste of blood. A shadow was there, bending over him, shielding the bright electric lights which threatened to blind him.

"You know" the Joker spat, his voice hoarse and shaken by a raspy cough. "You've been cheating! You were not an expected hindrance in that game! You cannot just run around blocking the treats for people who are in a paper chase! That would put out all the fun!"

He then felt strong hands on his throat, he was pulled up and his laughter was caught off as the Batman's arms easily lifted him from the ground. He was hardly standing anymore, only his tiptoes were still touching the floor and there he was, face to face with those masked eyes, his nose almost touching Batman's. He felt like he was about to vomit.

"Now I am asking you once again," the Batman barked, "You've been there! You must have had a reason for your acts! Tell me what you did, tell me why, tell me your _motives_!"

The Joker pulled his lips into a slimy grin. "Motives?" He cocked his head to the side and his tongue flicked over his red-traced scars. "I thought I already told you," he continued, "I never have reasons or plans… I'm just always on a quest – on a quest for fun."

The Batman let out a furious groan before freeing the Joker from his tight grip. He threw him hard against the wall like a toy that hadn't kept its promises.

"We are not done yet" he hissed before disappearing and leaving the Joker behind in his bitter cell.

The Joker squinted his eyes. The bright light had caused tears to form and he desired to shield his eyes with his palms more than anything else. He only then realised that he wasn't able to move. He could barely sit upright. His arms were tightly crossed to his chest and tied together at his back. _Straitjacket, no doubt. Goddamn straitjacket._ Why did they put him in a f***ing straitjacket?! No matter why, he didn't like it. Not one bit. It smelled of old leather, of anaesthetic, of germicide and all that terrible stuff he unintentionally related to doctors and therapists and hospitals and psychiatry – and he didn't like it, no he did not just _don't like it_, he completely _hated it_ and he clenched his teeth and wriggled and winded but it was hopeless. So he finally stopped wriggling and winding. He would only crunch his shirt.

He let out an exasperated sigh. The tight leather belts cut his back whenever he moved and everything whirled around him as if he was sitting in a very fast carrousel. He felt dizzy, out of balance, out of control. His arms were pinching his ribs and he felt like he couldn't breathe properly. And the longer he tried to even his breathing the harder it seemed to get.

The Joker staggered to his feet and he had a hard time trying to keep the room from wildly racing around right before his eyes. He felt so sick. He tripped and he almost fell. Only then he became aware of how helpless, how defenceless the straitjacket made him. Hell, anyone could knock him over and he would fall like a pawn in a chess game! And he couldn't even catch himself for his hands were tied back. Anyone could slap him and he couldn't slap back. Anyone could shoot him and he couldn't prevent it. He couldn't even kick properly for if he made one wrong move, he would lose his balance. He had been turned into a nothing.

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><p>The door creaked open and he could hear agitated voices floating in, interrupting and over-shouting each other, so that it was hardly possible to understand what they were fussing about. Didn't matter anyway. Eventually, a broad-shouldered officer stepped in, his shadow covering the Joker as he came nearer.<p>

"Mr. Joker, your psychiatrist wishes to see you" he announced while taking his step backwards again in exactly the same way. His psychiatrist? Since when did he have something like that? And since when did they care to send him one? Didn't matter either.

But instead of the tall doctor he had expected to see, a lady stepped in, dressed in a red-stained laboratory coat (probably she had spilled some chemistries on it) carrying a clipboard. For some reason she wore dark shaded glasses and her hair was tied up in a messy blonde knot.

"Officers, please leave us for a moment" she claimed, her melodic voice was almost sounding strict.

The officers obeyed without a question. The Joker faced her as she stepped nearer, his face a blank white mask; without emotion, without reaction. Still, he stretched his legs and he rolled his dark eyes, seemingly alarmed. Something in a pocket of her coat jingled like a Christmas bell as she came to a halt just a few inches in front of him. As the Joker perked up, he could read her nametag. _Hermione Lancaster_. What an odd name. Odd and at the same time, it was so simple that it made his lips spread into a grin.

Then suddenly, the lady fell to her knees and reached out to touch him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh Puddin'!" she sniffed.

His hands were twitching. He was bonded. Bonded again and this time he couldn't free himself on his own. For this time he was even bonded _and_ encaged_and_ surrounded by unpleasant walls – all at once.

The Joker shoved her back with a growl but it seemed she wouldn't let him distract her. Giggling she pressed a kiss to his forehead and before he could smash his head against hers, she backed away again, squealing with obvious excitement.

"It's alright Mr. J, it's me!"

She snatched her shaded glasses from her face to reveal the mask she had traced around her eyes, pulling her red lips into a proud smile.

"Harley?"

She nodded. "Didn't I promise I'd come for you?"

The Joker's lips trembled with confusion. His mouth opened and closed, he clenched his fists even though they were still tied to his back in the straitjacket. Yes, she did promise him. She did promise him a lot of things.

"Oh Mr. J," she grimaced a pout, "Why didn't you listen to me? You could have spared yourself so much trouble."

"I am an agent of chaos, dear. I live for trouble!"

Harley shook her head. Blonde locks sprung in her eye corners and she shook them away again. She took the Joker's shoulders and her gaze was almost stern as she locked her blinking sapphires with his glimmering obsidians.

"But there you see where your path of chaos has brought you!" she wildly gesticulated around the room and when she met the Joker's look again, he had pursed his lips and his forehead was crinkled with bitter folds. She boldly kissed the wrinkles and squeezed his shoulders.

"Oh come on, Mr. J!" she teased and she gave him a soft punch.

The Joker lifted his brow. He escaped Harley's sapphires but rather let his eyes peek at the door. He could hear the voices from outside again, whispering suspicious. He could hear hands gripping the door handle, he could hear keys rattling.

"We better go…" Harley adjusted the glasses back on her face, she fumbled at one of her coat pockets and there the Joker could hear that bell-jingle again. "I already made sure that your escape will be calm and without further hindrances." She winced, only that the Joker didn't notice it. He was still facing the door, his eyelids were twitching as if he had difficulties to keep his concentration upright. Harley grabbed him by the shoulders and he let her pull him to his feet, still in this almost creepy silence. Without a word he let her put her arm around him, let her lead him towards the door.

Outside were officers. These smug faces, hair tied back neatly, some had moustaches, some were ridiculously well-shaved – it was nearly cliché. They were only staring, some were absentmindedly gripping their guns as if in fear the Joker could somehow rip his hands free of his straitjacket and snatch them away. He clenched his fists and he pulled a frown, returning their stares with a deadly glance.

"I will take the Joker to my office" Harley assigned, giving her voice the darkest tremolo she could manage. She pressed her clipboard to her chest and she lifted her head in an authoritative way. And finally, they let her pass. Some nodded, some just grumbled and stepped out of _Miss Lancaster's _way. It was easy. Almost too easy.

Together they passed through doors and halls and everyone else they had to pass, stepped out of their way and kept a certain distance, even though the Joker's hands were safely trapped in his straitjacket. It seemed they just wanted to make sure. The Joker liked that. He liked the shock in their eyes and he liked how they stepped out of his way. He just had to pull them a sneer and there they went, wetting their pants in fear. He giggled.

"What's so funny, Mr. J?" Harley finally asked, her voice was only a whisper. The Joker didn't respond. He kept staring people down and he kept walking beside Harley, letting her lead the way, letting her hold his arm and help him keep his balance. His steps were still unsteady and insecure and the white walls were still fading and stretching before his eyes. But the pale faces which stared at him in sheer terror were clear and they were all he needed to see – and they made him smile.

"We are almost out, Puddin'…" She held her clipboard high and she still greeted all the people they passed matter-of-factly with a short nod. The Joker just gave her a "Hmm" in return. "I told you I'd keep it quick and pleasant, didn't I?" She proudly pressed her face to the Joker's arm as they walked around another corner. Harley let her eyes trace the bright corridors and every now and then they passed someone who still got Harley's nod as a greeting. Doctors rushed by in their white overalls, some were carrying clipboards as Harley did.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't come earlier, Mr. J…," Harley muttered, her voice carried melancholy. "It must have been terrible for you with all those doctor-people…"

Harley furrowed her brows and pulled another pout. She sighed but she walked on. The Joker had never been the utterly overenthusiastic type. At some point she should really be used to his lacking reactions.

Eventually they reached the door. And this time, nobody was there to stop them. They would just slip outside, unnoticed. This time, it was the Joker's turn. This time, he was the lucky guy. And as they stepped out, he felt like this time, he had won the game.


	3. The Pause Button on the Remote Control

**AN:**_ Finally, the last chapter of my little Threeshot! Don't forget to let me know how you liked it! :)_

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

_The Pause Button on the Remote Control_

Harley suppressed a squeal as they were running across an abandoned parking lot. The pavement was shining from the falling rain and the silver glow of the guttering streetlamps reflected in the puddles next to the sidewalks and between the cars.

"Oh, Mr. J, Mr. J!" she squeaked, "Wasn't that fun, huh? Wasn't that hilarious?" She seemed to be truly doubling over with laughter and she was pressing her clipboard to her belly.

The Joker suddenly stopped. He stepped in front of a puddle, watching the dark silhouette that appeared in the water, silverish from the streetlamp-glow, as he shaded the light.

"How did you manage to keep _Batman_ out of the way?" the Joker hissed.

Harley swallowed her laughter. She took in the Joker's dark expression, she could see the hatred gleaming in his eyes, she could hear the insanity sizzling in his words.

"Um… That was easy!" She smiled and this tiny smile drew in the Joker's full attention. Now he would listen – for once. "Well…," Harley stammered, "I was… having a look at your… notes?" The Joker's glare grew even darker, but she quickly went on explaining, "So, I was looking at them and there was this… this office… I forgot what exactly it was and… um… I read about an office and I read about this office being supposed to be bombed away and… well… There had to be something that would distract the Batman from Arkham for a while…"

Harley was surprised to see the Joker pulling his scarred mouth into a mischievous smile. He came closer and Harley's lips insecurely reflected his smile. She ducked down as if desperately trying to escape his tall shadow. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be pleased and calmed by his grin or rather scared.

"My little Harlequin," the Joker purred, "My little, sweet Harlequin" Harley's eyes lit up. She didn't know why. She had absolutely no reason. "Don't you think that would be considered as cheating?"

Harley tripped and fell. Was there fury glowing in those dark depths of his eyes? She crawled back as the Joker kept walking towards her and his grin seemed to take in her fear, it grew wider, it bloomed with sarcasm and madness.

"But, Puddin', I… I don't understand… I swear I have done it exactly as described in your notes…"

The Joker took a deep breath and then he bent down, his lips were at her ear, as he whispered, "I'm afraid you missed the fine print…"

"The… fine print?"

For a moment the Joker closed his eyes. He took another shaky breath before grinning again and all he said was, "Yes." He stretched the word, he enjoyed it, he let it fade into the silence of the night and it was sugar-sweet.

_"__Because I had to do it!"_

The scream came unexpected. Harley winced and she let out a pained whine. Next to her, the Joker was panting and she knew she was lucky that he still wore the straitjacket.

"You were not supposed to be in this game, you joined without permission, so you cheated!"

Harley gasped at the Joker's dreadful sight. He was stumbling from one leg to the other, his dark locks were dripping green with rainwater. His make-up was smeared all over his face and it stained his clothes black and red. He was trembling with rage.

"But-" she was caught off, "No!" the Joker shouted. "And you will free me from this bloody straitjacket now or I'll kick the living daylight out of you!"

Harley gulped. "Sure thing, no problem Mr. J…" She pulled herself up to put a comforting hand at the Joker's back but was shoved away – the Joker did not appreciate her warming touch.

"B-But first we have to take you somewhere, where you're safe… okay?"

He didn't respond. _Okay. _That was her _Okay_.

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><p>Harley pulled him up the stairs. It was quiet. It smelled moist and it seemed like the air around them became thinner with every hasted step they took. Harley panted hard. They had spent most of the time running, running up stairs and they stretched and winded to eternity as it seemed. It was dark. One could easily trip, loose balance, struggle and fall. She tugged the sleeve of the Joker's jacket. He would not fall. She took care of him, she watched his steps for him when his vision got blurred and she held him upright when he threatened to stumble.<p>

Finally they reached an iron ladder leading to the upper floors of the building. And although the Joker pleaded to be freed, Harley did not give in. So she pulled him up the ladder and he just let her pull him without trying to climb and push.

The roof was wet, the rain thundered down at them and it made the cold stone floor glimmer and reflect distorted images of windows, of lights and shades and of droplets falling from the grey sky. And in front of them were the lights of Gotham City, swallowed by clouds and fog. Harley slipped out of her wet coat. She carelessly dropped it to the ground. Then she shook her hair free and it dripped wet with rainwater.

"Oh, Mr. J…" she let out a dreamy sigh. "Didn't you always want to see Gotham City from high above?"

"Hmm…" his answer was short. But his eyes lit up. His features softened and somewhere beneath those red and black splotches of colour, the rain revealed the man behind the clown. It washed away the bitter wrinkles on his forehead, it lined out those dark eyes and it gave his lips a regular shape, even though it did as well outline the scars. The scars that scratched an untold, probably sad story in his face. A story of madness and abuse, a story of insanity, of self-consciousness and pain. His gaze was empty. His eyes saw a far-off place no one else could see. "It really is… entrancing…" he murmured. His voice carried sleep, his words sounded like a lullaby.

Harley took a step forward. She grabbed his arm, she snuggled her cheek to his bicep and squeezed it. "I knew you'd like it, Puddin'…" she whispered.

And suddenly the Joker's lips curled up in a smirk. He turned. Now Harley could see his eyes, she could see the dark lines the rain drew beneath them, like black tears. She could see his wide, red, scarred smile. His expression was unreadable. It was like a white sheet, filled with black, washed away ink letters. Some words could be guessed, but some were blurred. For a moment, his expression was soft, but it was a wrong kind of soft, an uncomfortable kind of soft. Then, the next second, his face was bittersweet, dripping with sarcasm. What was he thinking?

The Joker bent down and kissed her. Roughly, madly, hungrily. His tongue traced hers, his teeth bit her lower lip. He forced the taste of make-up and rain into her mouth. And the taste of blood. But Harley melted into him. She inhaled his smell, she savoured his harsh lips on hers. Carefully, she put her hands to his chest. He couldn't shove her away. He couldn't slap her. He couldn't push her to the ground. And even though she could feel his tensed muscles and his clenched fists, she did not stop kissing him, taking him in, longing for him and taking as much of him as he was willing to give. She wanted his hard kiss imprinted on her lips, she wanted his body tightly pressed to hers. She took every step back with him, she was locked in his kiss.

But then he forced her to let go of him. "Harley…," he slurred, "I would appreciate it very much if you opened this strait white vest for me."

Harley gave him a dizzy nod. "Sure…" She was confused, still yearning for his bitter lips. But then he turned his back to her, leaning down slightly. And with trembling fingers, she started to open the tight leather belts.

While Harley's fingers were trembling with weak longing, his own hands were trembling with rage. He let out a sigh of relief as he could finally breathe again. _How dare she keep him captured in this straitjacket for her own good?_ Soon the first belt hung loose and he could roll his shoulders. _How dare she drag along a nothing instead of turning him into a someone again? _Soon he could dangle his elbows, he could shake his arms, he could try to untighten the hug around his own body. _How dare she spread chaos and drive the Batman crazy in his stead?_ He could wriggle his arms out of the sleeves; slowly, carefully. _How dare she skim his attempts of doing an uncontrolled brainstorming?_ He could feel his body again. He was back in the game. _How dare she touch his sheets at all?_ And the thoughts were like toxin in his mind, they made him furious, they made him sizzle with anger and wrath. But now he had his hands back. He could stretch them with a crack, he could open and close his fists, he could draw gestures in the air, he could brush back his green, wet curls. And with a quick turn, he could easily knock Harley off her feet and shove her down the roof. _How delightful._

* * *

><p>Harley gasped with shock. She tried to grab hold of something but her fingers only met cold air. There was nothing. Only her Puddin' was there. Her Mr. J. She was afraid of falling. She wanted to stay by his side. She did not want to leave him. She did not want to hit the ground and be nothing more than a puddle of blood and crushed bones. Her hands snatched forward and all she could grab, was the Joker's shirt. And with pure despair, she dug her fingers into the wet fabric.<p>

The Joker fell. Now, that was it. Black. Night. The End. Rain and storm caressed his skin and slowly the lights and shades were fading. So that was, what embracing death felt like. It made him smile, it made him laugh. _Ridiculous. Truly ridiculous._ But this feeling only lasted for a short moment. Someone out there must have been throwing a coin. And he was a lucky man.

It was as if someone had set time in slow motion. He could see the ground coming nearer, he could feel his feet lifting from the floor. He could feel his tiptoes still touching the edge of the roof. And then his belt got caught in the stand of a small water tank and all went back to normal. It was as if someone had pressed the pause-button on a remote-control because he did not want to see the end of the movie. Or because he was afraid how the game would turn out – it was shortly before the opposing team would score its final goal in a football match. _Pause._ Nobody likes to see his team loose. _Pause._ Not watching the end so it seemingly wouldn't turn out that bad; this was cheating.

The Joker was breathing hard. His tongue licked his lips, tasted what was left of his lipstick, tasted blood, for he had bit his tongue as his fall had been caught off. He could feel fingers digging into his chest, pulling at his shirt.

"Puddin' please… you… you wouldn't do this, would you…?" He giggled. Harley's voice was like a candle flame flickering in the heavy rain. It was trembling and hoarse and it struggled to keep audible.

"Please, I got you out of there! I freed you!" The Joker could see tears springing to her eyes and the sound of his shirt slowly ripping under Harley's weight made him hiss a laugh. His heart slammed faster, it was drumming against his ribs like the loud beat of a disco-song in a sound box.

"Please Mr. J… Please… please… Pull me up… please, I'd do anything!"

He was numb, almost hovering in the air. The sensation of the wind in his face gave him pleasurable goosebumps and through the loud bumping sound of his heartbeat, he could barely hear Harley's pleas. The adrenaline swallowed everything. It rushed through his veins and it made his lips spread into a grin and then it made his voice form another joyful cackle. He felt the belt tear at his trousers, he felt his shirt slowly being ripped of his back.

"MR. J!" Harley cried. His eyes snapped open. Harley's fingers slipped of his wet shirt and with a shriek, she started to fall. The dark around her seemed to grow darker, the height beneath her feet grew higher and she was almost swallowed up by fog and rain. But the Joker was even faster than gravity. And he grabbed her wrist, before she could disappear in the grey rainclouds.

Harley was panting. The shock was still visible in her eyes, the scream was caught in her throat and there were tears glistening on her rosy cheeks; somewhere in between the raindrops.

"I… I knew you wouldn't do this…" Harley gasped.

The Joker firmly pressed his lips together. Seconds turned into minutes and he was only looking at her. He took in the terror that was edged in her features, he listened to the splashing of the rain, the melody of the wind, the drumming of his heart. Finally, with a sigh, he stuck out the tip of his tongue and then he pulled with all his strength. He pulled her up, pulled her in his embrace, pulled her in a rain-wet, make-up-bitter, blood-sweet, sarcastic, short kiss. When he backed away, he grabbed her chin and turned her head, so he could look in those fear-wide eyes and there he could see that tiny flame of passion he had enlightened. He gave her a content grin.

"Never" he breathed, before roughly kissing her lips again.


End file.
